


Worse

by Dusty_Forgotten



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3
Genre: Amputation, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-12 19:21:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1196511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty_Forgotten/pseuds/Dusty_Forgotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With a blast like that, the Lone Wanderer has to be dead. In actuality, this may be worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worse

“We’re halfway to Paradise Falls, so I can pick up my commission and another collar, then circle back down to Rivet City.” Erin recounted, setting markers on her Pip-Boy. “If that’s okay with you?”

“Where you lead, I will follow.” Charon responded carefully.

“You can have an opinion, you know. I want you to have an opinion. Your contract doesn’t have anything against that.”

“I have no preference in the situation.”

The Lone Wanderer sighed, and kept walking. “You know, Charon, I wish I could understa-”

She cut herself off, and froze. The ghoul thought she heard enemies, and reached for the combat shotgun on his back, but it was something much worse. “ _Shit._ ” the vaultie whispered, processing.

_Boom._

Dust blew up around her. Dogmeat jumped at Charon’s side, and whimpered. The lone wanderer lay there, maybe a yard ahead of him, head lolled to the side and eyes open, but cold. He thought she was dead from a blast like that, but then she blinked, sat up, and stared wide-eyed at her leg. Then she screamed.

Charon had heard some awful screams in his lifetime- warcries, shock, terror- but this was piercing, unadulterated pain. It hurt to hear. He ran to her.

She stopped, drew in a long breath, and screamed again. Her left leg up to the knee was charred, and everything below the calf was a gory mess. She hyperventilated, and dug frantically into the pocket of her jacket, removing three stimpaks which she uncapped with her teeth, and stabbed into her thigh. “Fucking landmine was fucking buried, barely fuckin’ heard it, couldn’t fuckin’ find it, shit, fuck, FUCK!”

“How bad is it?” he asked, hoping it was one of those injuries that looked worse than it was. No such luck.

“Fucking eleven on the scale, everything’s broken, at least two toes are fucking gone!” She screamed again, broken by gasping sobs.

“We’ll get through this. Do you have any Med-Ex?”

“No fucking way am I touching that shit, I’ve read the goddamn side effects! It doesn’t fucking matter! It’s a mile back to Megaton, and one-and-a-fuckin’-half to the Falls!”

He ignored her, and dug in her bag to remove a syringe of the painkiller. She tried to pull away, but didn’t have the energy to stop the injection. “Give it up.” she said, deflating, in voice and spirit. “I won’t make it back.”

“We’ve got plenty of stimpaks-”

“Stimpaks boost cell replication to speed healing, but it doesn’t matter, because I’m losing too much blood. No one survives stepping on landmines, even if it doesn’t liquify you.”

Charon dug in her bag and found an old vault suit. He ripped a strip down the torso and tied it as tightly as he could around her thigh. “Charon, stop.”

He obeyed.

“Go back to Megaton. Tell them...” she trailed off, breathing rapid, but shallow. “Tell them I’m sorry... Take the house, dog, everything...”

Her eyes glazed over, and she started to teeter as Charon threw her arm over his shoulder, and held her around the waist, standing. She was going into shock, Charon knew as he dragged her along. “Charon....?” she asked weakly, struggling to keep her head up.

“You can talk, so long as you keep moving.”

She blinked, long, slow, difficult to open her eyes again. “Your... contract’s in the... file, cabinet...” She started to go limp, and Charon shook her awake. Her left leg didn’t touch the ground; there wasn’t enough left of it. “Last order: Burn it...”

“Come on.” Charon huffed, jostling her a little when she threatened to fall out of his grip. “Keep walking, and we’ll make it. Keep _fucking_ walking.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Doc Church didn’t like spectators, so Charon loitered outside. Dogmeat would whimper of paw at the door every now and again, but Charon was trained to stand silently, unmoving, for long periods of time. These four hours were no challenge.

She passed out a little before Springvale, and he had to carry her the rest of the way back. His arms ached because of it, but they made it, which was good. He wasn’t supposed to lie to his master, and as far as masters went... She was about the best he could get.

“Miss me?”

The dog barked excitedly, and lovingly accepted her scratches to the back of his head. She looked tired, leg wrapped in gauze, weight supported on a pair of crutches. It stopped at the ankle. “It is good to see you have- recovered.”

“It’s no big deal. Doc says I could probably get a prosthetic after I heal up and walk just fine.”

Charon swallowed. “That is good.”

“Are we not going to talk about how you totally broke contract back there?”

Charon fixed his eyes on her chin, lowering his gaze in submission. “I will not resist whatever punishment you deem appropriate.”

She leaned over, into his sightline. “No. This is bigger. Why do I keep that piece of paper around if it doesn’t mean anything?” she said, sounding far too lighthearted.

Charon straightened up. He wanted to ask a question, but wasn’t sure if he was permitted to speak at current. _Was she implying...?_

Erin leaned her crutch against the wall, laced her arm in his for support, and winked. “Come on. We’re having dinner at the Brass Lantern.”


End file.
